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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562321">no body, no crime</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeyougreenie/pseuds/ilikeyougreenie'>ilikeyougreenie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(not between Hannibal and Will), Alternate Universe, Angst, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Creative License, Endgame Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Matthew and Will don't have a good relationship, Missing Persons, Now with a Spotify Playlist, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Will has a dog shelter, Winston supremacy, especially with the law, hannibal is a surgeon, the matthew/will is minor and definitely not endgame</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:47:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeyougreenie/pseuds/ilikeyougreenie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Hannibal started, clasping his hands and laying them on the table. “Earlier this evening you told me you think your husband is cheating on you,” He said bluntly, eager to get straight to the point. “Tell me, Will… What are you going to do about that?”</p><p>- essentially, taylor swift and HAIM's 'no body, no crime', with a twist. will is este, matthew is his husband, and hannibal is taylor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beverly Katz &amp; Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter &amp; Winston, Matthew Brown/Will Graham, Will Graham &amp; Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. one | este's a friend of mine / but i ain't lettin' up until the day i die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hiiii! welcome to 'no body, no crime'! i was listening to this song recently when i realised how good it would be as a fic...and this was born! huge thanks to my wonderful friends who gave me so much support while writing this and also proofread it for me. you are the best. &lt;3<br/>each chapter will focus on a different part of the song. however, this fic is going to go in a slightly different direction so will likely extend beyond the end of the song. speaking of which, if you haven't heard it already, go and listen to it! it's called 'no body, no crime', by taylor swift and HAIM. it's amazing.<br/>anyway, on with the fic! i hope you enjoy :)))</p><p>edit: i'm going to just pop a little warning here - matthew and will don't have a great relationship. there's a few instances where matthew gaslights will and is generally rough with him, physically and emotionally. there is no violence per se, but if you feel like any of this might trigger you please stay safe and don't read it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Este's a friend of mine</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Este's been losin' sleep</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her husband's actin' different, and it smells like infidelity</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She says, "That ain't my Merlot on his mouth</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That ain't my jewelry on our joint account"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, there ain't no doubt</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I think I'm gonna call him out</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>She says, "I think he did it, but I just can't prove it"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I think he did it, but I just can't prove it</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I think he did it, but I just can't prove it</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, no body, no crime</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I ain't lettin' up until the day I die</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal Lecter would hazard that he knew Will Graham fairly well.</p><p>They’d been friends for a long time, that much was true. They’d met years ago, when Will had been bitten by one of his rescues and was subsequently in need of stitches. They’d hit it off immediately, and their relationship had remained steadfast as the years passed; Hannibal had been best man at Will’s wedding, and the two met up for dinner every Tuesday. Olive Garden was a little below Hannibal’s usual standards, but he made an exception for Will. He always had; from the day they’d met. They just got one another, in ways that others couldn’t.</p><p>That was why Hannibal knew that something was wrong, from the minute Will stepped into Olive Garden that night.</p><p>Hannibal always arrived first, always ten minutes earlier than their agreed meeting time. He liked to get situated – coat off, jacket unbuttoned, wine corked and poured – before Will arrived sometime between 7:30 and 7:35. That was a given; Will was always late, but never by more than five minutes.</p><p>Tonight, however, he was fifteen minutes late. And counting.</p><p>Hannibal slid his sleeve up a little, eyeing his watch. The hand ticked onwards, passing 7:46 with no sign of Will. He sighed, lifting his glass to his mouth and taking a slow sip of wine. He was seated at the back of the restaurant, the room curving outwards in front of him. The door was right in his eyeline, the parking lot stretching out beyond, and he hadn’t yet seen Will’s truck pull in.</p><p>He tapped a finger against his glass before setting it back down. His menu was still open in his lap, despite the fact that he already knew what he was going to order. Closing it was admitting defeat, and he wasn’t planning on doing that any time soon.</p><p>He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, checking to see if Will had perhaps sent him a message. The screen, however, was tauntingly and frustratingly blank. Hannibal shifted in his chair as he put his phone away again, gaze sweeping across the restaurant. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little bit worried at this point. God only knew the trouble Will might’ve got himself into.</p><p>Hannibal decided then that if Will hadn’t arrived by 8, he would head over to his house and find out what was going on. If Will wasn’t in then Matthew would likely be there to spin Hannibal some fantastic tale about his husband’s whereabouts.</p><p>Ah, yes. Will’s <em>husband</em>.</p><p>Will and Matthew had met two years ago, at the gym of all places. They’d gone for coffee that had stretched into lunch, then dinner, and had started dating a few weeks later. Matthew had proposed fairly soon after that, and within a matter of months they were married. All less than a year since their first meeting.</p><p>Hannibal understood the concept of a whirlwind romance, and this certainly seemed like one of those. Not only that, but Will and Matthew were hardly compatible with one another, and seemed to tolerate one another rather than hold any genuine affection. But, the matching rings on their fingers said otherwise, so Hannibal conceded (though he was loathe to do so). Matthew could hardly hold a candle to Will, but that was beyond the point.</p><p>Hannibal was about to check his watch, certain that it must be nearing 8 o’clock, when a pair of familiar headlights finally pulled into the parking lot. One was dimmer than the other – had been since Matthew had borrowed the truck one weekend and came back claiming he’d hit a deer on the road – and Hannibal recognised it instantly. It swung into an empty bay, stopping abruptly before bequeathing its driver to the night air.</p><p>Even through the window, Hannibal could see that Will was tense. It was written into the very line of his body; in the way his shoulders crept up towards his chin as he walked, in the way he kept twisting his car keys around his finger, in the way he chewed at his lower lip even though it was already chapped to hell, in the way he favoured one side of his mouth as he smiled at the hostess before heading across the restaurant towards their usual table.</p><p>“Hey,” He breathed, dropping into the chair across from Hannibal. He tugged off his jacket and draped it across the back of his chair, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he settled. “Uh, sorry I’m late.”</p><p>“It’s quite alright,” Hannibal said evenly, his gaze flickering down to Will’s mouth. One corner was swollen and smudged red, and he resisted the urge to touch his thumb to it. “Is everything okay?”</p><p>“Hm?” Will hummed distractedly, gaze fluttering between Hannibal and the menu. “Oh, uh, not really. But I don’t want to get into that right now.”</p><p>Hannibal raised an eyebrow but acquiesced, finally sliding his menu closed now that Will was here. A waiter came over shortly after to fill Will’s glass and take their orders before removing their menus and leaving them in silence. Will reached gratefully for his glass – filled with wine of Hannibal’s choosing – and promptly gulped it down. Hannibal watched the rhythmic, hypnotic movement of his throat as he swallowed, blinking out of his daze as Will set down his empty glass.</p><p>“Now?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head to the side a little. He lifted the wine bottle and refilled Will’s glass halfway before topping up his own. Will sighed, laying his hands on the table and fidgeting with his wedding ring. He twisted it back and forth, before pulling it off completely and setting it down beside his glass. It lay there for a few moments, commanding, before Will gave in and pushed it back onto his finger.</p><p>“I guess now’s as good a time as any, right?” Will chuckled, humourless and deprecating. “I, uh,” He cleared his throat, pushing a hand through his curls. “I think Matthew might be cheating on me.”</p><p>Hannibal blinked.</p><p>“Cheating on you?” He asked after a moment, curling his fingers around the stem of his glass delicately. He leaned back in his chair and took a slow sip, noting the dark bags beneath Will’s eyes.</p><p>“Yeah,” Will sighed, gaze fixed on the table. “It, uh, it sounds stupid, right? But he’s been coming home late a lot and he just – he tastes different, y’know? Like, he tastes like wine. What reason would he have to drink wine on a late shift at the hospital?”</p><p>“No reason, as far as I’m aware.” Hannibal mused. Will extended a hand in response, as if to say – “Right?”</p><p>“Yeah, exactly. And we have a joint bank account, right? And I don’t look at the statements that often because I know what I’m spending from it and I don’t want to, y’know, police him or whatever. But I took a look at the most recent one and,” Will rolled his shoulders back, lifting his gaze to meet Hannibal’s own. “He hasn’t given me anything from fucking <em>Pandora</em> recently – or ever, actually.”</p><p>“Is that all?” Hannibal asked, raising a placating hand at Will’s wild-eyed look. “Calm down, I’m just asking if you have any more evidence.”</p><p>“Nothing as compelling,” Will sighed, his shoulders relaxing minutely at the implication that Hannibal believed him. “Just, he’s been acting different. Less interested in me, y’know? And I get it, we’ve been married for a year now. Maybe interest does genuinely just wane after that length of time.” Will shrugged, picking at the grain in the tablecloth.</p><p>One of Hannibal’s eyebrows arched, and he looked down at Will’s fingers as they flexed against the tablecloth. He couldn’t imagine such a thing; Will Graham’s orbit was not something one could easily escape. He should know; he’d been halfway in love with Will since the very day they’d met.</p><p>
  <em>It was a Sunday – Hannibal’s first day off in a while – and he had decided to head out for an early morning walk through the woods. While most people would sleep in on their day off, Hannibal preferred to get up early and spend some time with nature before heading home for brunch – homecooked, of course. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had yet to see or hear another person and was content to wander through the woods alone with no direction in mind. The sound of birdsong soothed him, and he enjoyed admiring the way that the trees twisted high into the air. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He walked on in silence, crouching low when he came across a patch of mushrooms sprouting out of the ground. He touched them gently with his forefinger, trying to assess whether they were edible or not. He was engrossed in his task when the silence was shattered by a shout – of pain, if Hannibal’s assessment was correct – followed by a cacophony of raucous barking. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hannibal stood, leaving the mushrooms behind and following the noise. The barking was interspersed with unintelligible shouts that Hannibal struggled to distinguish. He finally came across a clearing where a man stood surrounded by dogs, all of them barking and clamouring at him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey, hey, come on guys,” The man said, one hand tucked close to his chest while the other patted each of the dogs in turn. “I’m fine, it’s okay. Shh, Winston, I’m fine.” He said softly, crouching and laving attention on one dog in particular. The dog – Winston, Hannibal supposed – was licking the man’s face eagerly, raising both paws and pushing them against the man’s chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Winston – hey!” The man laughed, tumbling backwards into the dirt. Winston yipped happily, clambering on top of the man and licking his face with renewed fervour. The other dogs followed suit, all trying to nuzzle their way in to join in on the cuddle pile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hannibal approached slowly – none of the dogs nor the man had noticed him yet, and he didn’t want to startle them. It was then that he spotted a flash of scarlet through the sea of rippling fur, and realised that one of the man’s hands was dripping blood. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Excuse me?” Hannibal shouted then, far enough away that he wouldn’t startle the dogs too much. They all stopped at the sound of his voice, turning around to face him in a protective semi-circle. The man in the middle sat up, his bleeding hand tucked close to his chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh, uh, hi,” The man said, seeming a little flustered. He swept his clean hand through his hair, pushing his curls off his forehead. “Sorry about the noise.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s quite alright,” Hannibal brushed it off, instead gesturing towards the man’s hand. “Are you okay? That looks nasty.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Huh? Oh, that,” The man shrugged, looking down at his hand. “There was a stray running around. I tried to get close to it, but it wasn’t interested. Hence,” He lifted his hand, blood splattering down the front of his shirt. “I have an animal shelter, so I was hoping to take it in. Get it cleaned up, checked, y’know. I should know better than to get too close but it looked injured.” The man sighed, stroking the dog named Winston’s head with his unbloodied hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“A bleeding heart,” Hannibal joked gently. “Did it run off?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, I don’t know where it went,” The man shrugged, gesturing towards the woods. “Could be anywhere. I’ll come back once I get rid of this lot.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And get that hand looked at,” Hannibal reminded him. “In fact, may I? I’m a doctor.” He said politely, noting the way the man’s eyebrows quirked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sure, if you want to,” The man shrugged, pushing himself to his feet. “Stand down, you lot. He’s a friend.” He chuckled as the dogs hovered protectively around him, their eyes fixed on Hannibal. He approached slowly, trying his best to make himself seem as unthreatening as possible. He held his hands out to the dogs, allowing them to sniff him and assess the situation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once he’d been thoroughly vetted – by Winston, most of all – he straightened up and closed the distance between himself and the other man. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m Will, by the way,” The man said, holding his bloodied hand out towards Hannibal. “Will Graham.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hannibal Lecter,” Hannibal said in response, taking Will’s wrist gently and turning it this way and that. He was careful to avoid touching the blood, on the off chance that the dog had been infected. “I fear you’re going to need stitches. I can take you to the hospital, if you want. Or to my house. I have a fully stocked medical kit there, and your dogs could come too.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will was silent for a few moments, his gaze flickering over the dogs still surrounding him and Hannibal. “If you’re sure,” He said eventually, meeting Hannibal’s eyes for a moment before looking away again. “There’s nobody else at the shelter today, and I wouldn’t be able to settle them properly with my hand-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s not a problem,” Hannibal said, laying a hand on Will’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. “Come with me. My car isn’t far away.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh, god. You’ve probably got a really nice car. Maybe, uh, maybe you should drive my truck? I wouldn’t want them messing up your upholstery.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hannibal paused, looking down at the dogs. There were five of them; they probably wouldn’t all fit comfortably in the Bentley, now that he thought about it. “That might be a good idea, actually. As long as you don’t mind?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mind?” Will snorted, shaking his head. He used his clean hand to adjust his glasses. “You’re doing me the favour here, Hannibal. Course I don’t mind.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Alright,” Hannibal nodded, gesturing towards the path he’d come from. “Shall we, then?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will acquiesced, giving a short, sharp whistle. The dogs clustered at his heels, following behind himself and Hannibal as they left the clearing. Hannibal snuck a glance at Will out of the corner of his eye as they walked. He was beautiful, in an understated kind of way; a way that suggested that he had no idea. He wore plain clothes – a plaid flannel and khakis, glasses perched on his nose – that made him seem unassuming. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But the early morning sunlight filtered through the trees and brushed across his cheeks, lighting him up in a way that left Hannibal breathless. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will looked up at Hannibal quickly, ducking his head down again. He reached down to stroke one of the dogs as he walked, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Have I, uh, got something on my face?” He asked, eyes flickering up to meet Hannibal’s again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hannibal chuckled. Caught out. “No, Will. Nothing.” </em>
</p><p>Hannibal cleared his throat. “I doubt that. You are captivating, Will.”</p><p>Will rolled his eyes, even as the corner of his mouth pulled upwards. “Yeah, yeah, Hannibal. Whatever you say,” He sighed again, resting his chin on his palm and looking across the table at his companion. “I think he’s cheating on me. I just can’t <em>prove</em> it.”</p><p>“I think what you have is already fairly evidentiary,” Hannibal supplied, drawing his finger down the stem of his glass. “I suppose you haven’t confronted him about it?”</p><p>Will snorted, shaking his head. “<em>Fuck</em> no. You know what Matthew’s like. He’d probably turn the entire situation around on me. I mean, he’s already accused me of cheating on him with <em>you</em> multiple times-”</p><p>Will’s mouth snapped shut as their starters arrived and instead shot a smile up at the waiter. “Thank you.” He said gratefully, draping a paper napkin across his lap before lifting his spoon.</p><p>“You were saying?” Hannibal gestured lightly towards Will with his own spoon, interested in hearing the remainder of the sentence. It didn’t entirely surprise him if Matthew did have his suspicions, although those surely lay on Hannibal’s part rather than Will’s.</p><p>“It’s not important,” Will brushed it off, blowing gently on his soup to cool it down. “Just Matthew being Matthew and making shit up, that’s all.”</p><p>“Gaslighting you, you mean.” Hannibal said casually, dipping his spoon into his soup.</p><p>“I, uh, what? It’s not – it’s not like that…” Will said weakly, trailing off. He stirred his soup balefully, staring into its depths.</p><p>“I think it is,” Hannibal said quietly, gently nudging Will’s calf with the tip of his shoe. “But that is a topic for another time, perhaps. Why don’t you tell me about work?”</p><p>The pair made light small talk throughout their meal, their earlier conversation lingering on the fringes but never blossoming into anything more. That was, until the table had been cleared of everything but a fresh bottle of wine.</p><p>Will had drunk most of the first bottle, while Hannibal had been more measured and had paced himself with water. They usually stopped at one bottle, considering that they both had to drive home afterwards, but Will had been adamant on ordering a second bottle tonight. Hannibal allowed him that, ordering water for himself instead. He would drive Will home afterwards – Matthew’s suspicions be damned – and could always help him fetch his truck tomorrow after work.</p><p>Hannibal took a sip of water as Will poured himself a fresh glass of wine. His hands trembled just a little – imperceptible to the untrained eye – and the neck of the bottle clinked gently against the rim of his glass. A little wine spilled over the edge and Hannibal reached out a hand to steady the bottle, his fingers just brushing Will’s.</p><p>“Thanks.” Will muttered, steadfastly ignoring Hannibal’s gaze and watching instead as the wine bubbled upwards in the glass. He relinquished the bottle once the glass was full enough, and Hannibal set it down. Not in the centre of the table but to the side, so his view of Will was unobstructed.</p><p>“So,” Hannibal started, clasping his hands and laying them on the table. “Earlier this evening you told me you think your husband is cheating on you,” He said bluntly, eager to get straight to the point. “Tell me, Will… What are you going to do about that?”</p><p>Will snorted, setting his glass down and leaning forward. He mirrored Hannibal’s position; hands also clasped in the centre of the table. He held eye contact for a few dizzying seconds before he looked down at their hands, untucking his index finger and touching it lightly to Hannibal’s own.</p><p>“Nothing,” He said eventually, dragging his nail down the line of Hannibal’s knuckles. “What fucking proof do I have, Hannibal? Until I see him literally fucking someone else there’s no way I can <em>prove</em> it,” He sighed, tipping his head forward until it rested against Hannibal’s hands. His curls tickled Hannibal’s thumbs. “You know how it would go, anyway. If I tried to accuse him without evidence.”</p><p>“How?” Hannibal asked, resisting the impulse to brush a hand through Will’s hair. He knew, of course. He’d been Will’s confidant – besides Beverly – for the majority of his relationship with Matthew.</p><p>Will sat up a little, resting his chin on his own clasped hands this time. “We fight, we fuck, then we pretend everything’s fine. That’s how it always goes.” Will blew out a breath that ruffled the errant curls that had fallen across his forehead.</p><p>“It doesn’t have to be like that, Will.” Hannibal said quietly, measured in his reaction. Will rolled his eyes, reaching for his glass like a crutch.</p><p>“Yes, it does,” He said plainly, draining the remainder of the wine. “You know it does. For better or for worse, right?”</p><p>“Right.”</p>
<hr/><p>Will was quiet after that, although he did obediently down a glass of water at Hannibal’s behest. He headed to the bathroom shortly after, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it as he crossed the restaurant. Hannibal watched him go, his gaze fixed until Will had disappeared from view. He then set about paying the bill and gathering up their things, deftly slipping Will’s truck keys out of his coat pocket so he wasn’t even tempted to try and drive it home.</p><p>When Will returned, Hannibal had his coat on and was standing in wait. He held Will’s own jacket in his hands and helped him slide it onto his shoulders with great care. Will would never admit it, but the gesture made him ache.</p><p>He and Hannibal headed out into the parking lot, walking shoulder to shoulder. Their hands brushed every few steps, but neither of them moved away. Will reached into his pocket for his keys and frowned when he couldn’t find them, stopping and checking every other pocket on his jacket.</p><p>“Looking for these?” Hannibal asked, dangling Will’s keys from his forefinger. His collection of keyrings clinked gently, drawing Will’s gaze upwards. His eyes widened at the sight of his keys, held captive by Hannibal, and he held a hand out for them.</p><p>“Thanks, did I drop them?” Will asked, stepping forward and reaching to grab the keys from Hannibal’s grip. Hannibal, however, made a disparaging noise and swept the keys into his own pocket.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Will. You’re drunk. I’m driving you home.”</p><p>“Fuck off, Hannibal. I’m fine,” Will protested, tucking his hands into his pockets and pulling his jacket closer around himself. “Seriously. If Matthew sees you bring me home, he’ll have a fit. Probably have one anyway, to be honest.” He muttered the last part under his breath, leaning close to sneak his hand into Hannibal’s pocket.</p><p>Hannibal tutted, closing his fingers around Will’s wrist and holding lightly, thumb grazing his pulse point. “I’m driving, Will. No ifs, no buts. I’d rather know you made it home in one piece.”</p><p>Will stilled, his gaze meeting Hannibal’s for a few long, drawn out seconds before he conceded and relaxed. “Okay. Fine.”</p><p>Hannibal smiled, squeezing Will’s wrist gently before letting go. “Good man. Come on.” He said, shoes crunching against the gravel as he led the way over to his own car. The Bentley was sleek, shining beneath the overhead lights, and was far lower to the ground than Will’s truck. It was Hannibal’s pride and joy, though he would never admit it. He went round to the passenger side first, holding the door open for Will who rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Never change, Hannibal.” Will sighed as he slid into the passenger seat, doing up his seatbelt as Hannibal closed the door gently. He rounded the car and got in behind the wheel, firing up the engine as he did so.</p><p>“I don’t plan on it.” Hannibal said lightly, turning the heat up just a little. Will leaned his head against the window as they headed out of the parking lot and in the direction of the house he and Matthew shared. It had been Matthew’s house originally; Will had moved in shortly after they’d started dating. It was in a good enough location – close enough to the shelter that it only took Will ten minutes to get there in the morning – but it wasn’t the kind of place that Will had ever imagined himself living. It was in a fairly busy suburban area, neighbours on either side, with a small patch of grass at the back that was supposed to constitute a garden.</p><p>The décor was nice enough but once again not exactly Will’s style. It comprised of a lot of marble floors that rippled underfoot and glass chandeliers that dripped diamonds from the ceiling. Will wasn’t exactly the most ostentatious; he would’ve much preferred a cabin in the woods somewhere, with cosy furniture and a huge yard for the dogs to run around in. Matthew didn’t even let him keep any of the dogs in the house; even the ones that Will considered his had to live at the shelter.</p><p>Since they’d left the restaurant, it had begun to rain; just gently, spitting softly against the windows. Will lifted a hand and pressed his index fingertip to the window, chasing a stray droplet on its path downwards.</p><p>“Will,” Hannibal said quietly, reaching over and taking his hand away from the glass. “Please don’t do that. The windows will get streaky.”</p><p>“Sorry.” Will mumbled, slumping in his seat and tucking his chin close to his chest. Hannibal watched him curl in on himself and felt a pang of guilt.</p><p>“No, I’m sorry,” Hannibal sighed, fingers still curled around Will’s hand. “You’re going through a hard time right now. I should not be policing you.”</p><p>“It’s your fucking car, Hannibal,” Will snorted, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I just-” He sighed, carefully pulling his hand away from Hannibal’s and tucking his beneath his arm. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I – I can’t stay with Matthew if he’s cheating on me. But I don’t know if he’ll let me go that easily.”</p><p>“It is not his choice, Will,” Hannibal said, gentle but firm. “It is yours. Don’t let him take that choice away from you. He is your husband, not your keeper.”</p><p>“Tell him that.” Will muttered, hunching further down into his seat as they turned onto his and Matthew’s street. Their house was about halfway down, bracketed by nosy neighbours on either side. Will didn’t particularly like either of them; the ones on the left were extremely religious and more than disapproving of his and Matthew’s ‘lifestyle’, while the ones on the right were supportive to the point of overbearing. They all just made him uncomfortable more than anything else.</p><p>The porch lights were on, meaning that Matthew was home. Will had secretly hoped that he would be out somewhere by the time he got back; he wasn’t exactly in the mood to be patronised tonight. So he’d gone out with a friend – a friend he’d known longer than he’d known Matthew – and had a few drinks. What was so wrong with that?</p><p>A lot, according to Matthew.</p><p>
  <em>Will stood in the bathroom, adjusting his cuffs in the mirror. His outfit as plain – as usual – consisting of a pale salmon shirt tucked into dark grey slacks. He chose to forego the matching jacket for a long wool coat that Hannibal himself had bought him a few years prior; slate grey with deep burgundy silk lining. Black washed him out, apparently. Not that Will was any the wiser. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You look nice,” Matthew said, leaning against the doorframe. His gaze flickered up and down Will’s body a few times. “Really nice, actually.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will had to force himself not to physically cringe. This was the most attention Matthew had paid to him in the last few weeks – he hadn’t been around the last few Tuesdays, so Will had been able to get ready for dinner with Hannibal in peace. </em>
</p><p><em>Tonight, however, Matthew was intent on following him around the house as he got ready; he’d joined Will in the shower earlier, had lingered by the wardrobe while he chose his outfit, and was now just </em>hovering<em>. It was slowly driving Will mad. </em></p><p>
  <em>“Thanks.” He said simply, smoothing down the front of his shirt and making sure it was neatly tucked into his slacks. He stepped closer to the mirror, running his hands through his still-damp hair a few times. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You said this was dinner with Hannibal, yeah?” Matthew asked. Will sighed inwardly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, Matthew. Same as every week.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Right. Just checking,” Matthew said, faux-innocence dripping from every syllable. “It’s just that, well, you look a lot nicer than you do when we go out.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What the fuck?” Will sighed – outwardly this time – stepping back from the mirror and turning to face Matthew. “You’re joking, right?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do I look like I’m joking?” Matthew asked, one eyebrow quirking upwards. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Christ, Matthew,” Will muttered, pushing past him and heading out into the bedroom. He grabbed his coat from where it lay on the bed, sliding it on quickly. “It’s not really any of your business how I dress, whether I’m going out with you or anyone else. For what it’s worth you never take me out anymore anyway, so-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will was cut off by Matthew’s hand closing around his wrist, spinning him around to back him up against the wall. He tensed as Matthew crushed their mouths together, licking his way into Will’s mouth with uninvited intensity. He scraped his teeth against Will’s bottom lip, biting down hard at the corner. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will shoved Matthew backwards, pressing his fingertips against the corner of his mouth. They came away red, and the taste of metal flooded his mouth. “Are you fucking serious?” Will frowned. “Are you trying to claim me or something? Is the ring on my finger not enough?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not for Hannibal Lecter,” Matthew snapped. “I don’t like the way he looks at you, Will-”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will waved a hand in the air, cutting off whatever Matthew was going to say next. “I’m married to you, Matthew. Not Hannibal,” He said shortly, grabbing his keys and wallet from the nightstand. “Respect both of us enough to realise what that means.” He left the bedroom – left Matthew seething behind him – and headed downstairs. A pile of bills sat on the hall table, and Will sighed as he scooped them up. He flicked through them disinterestedly, until he came to the bill for his and Matthew’s joint account. He hadn’t checked it in a while; the bills only came every three months, and he didn’t use the account much anyway. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He decided to take it with him and slid it into the inside pocket of his coat. He left the others on the table and headed for the door, his hand stilling as he heard Matthew on the staircase. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Will,” Matthew called softly, his voice cracking just a little. “Will, I’m sorry,” He said quietly, descending the staircase and making his way over to Will. He slipped his arms around Will from behind, pressing a kiss against the side of his throat. “I’m sorry. I’m just jealous, you know?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’ve got nothing to be jealous of,” Will muttered, withdrawing from Matthew’s grip. “Just – try taking a bit more pride in our relationship. Okay?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Matthew nodded, licking the pad of his thumb and rubbing at the corner of Will’s mouth. Will winced, moving away from the contact at the sting of his lip. Matthew’s face crumpled – pseudo-concern, Will thought to himself – and he moved his hand to cup Will’s jaw. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m sorry,” He murmured, leaning close to brush a kiss over the edge of Will’s mouth. “I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You never do, Will thought. </em>
</p><p>Hannibal pulled up outside Will and Matthew’s house, turning the engine off and getting out of the car. He headed round to Will’s side and opened the door for him, offering him a hand to help him get out. Will gave him a scathing look in response, ignoring the hand completely and getting out of the car himself.</p><p>“Come on, Hannibal. I’m not a fucking damsel,” Will muttered, looking up as his front door opened. Matthew was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed for bed – plain t-shirt and boxers with a robe knotted over the top – as if he’d been waiting up for Will expressly. “Fuck.” He sighed under his breath, shoulders hunching forward as he made to head up the driveway. His toe caught on the kerb and he tripped suddenly, would’ve hit the ground had Hannibal not been there to catch him and set him right.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Hannibal asked quietly, his hand hovering at the small of Will’s back.</p><p>“Fine.” Will shrugged one shoulder, smoothing down his jacket and continuing towards the front door. One of Matthew’s eyebrows arched upwards as Will headed up the front steps, Hannibal a few paces behind.</p><p>“Had a bit too much to drink did you, William?” He asked, pushing off the doorframe and standing up straight. He stepped forward, catching Will by his lapels and dragging him into a kiss. The intensity of the kiss had Will staggering backwards, clutching at the porch frame to save himself from falling over.</p><p>Kissing Matthew was usually easy; all he had to do was shut his eyes and fall into a familiar rhythm. Now, though, he was reminded of the stale taste of Merlot that stained Matthew’s mouth every night he came home late. He placed a hand in the centre of Matthew’s chest and pushed him back gently, shaking his head.</p><p>“C’mon, Matthew. In front of Hannibal, seriously?” Will wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gesturing towards Hannibal who hovered at the bottom of the steps. The rain was still light, catching in Hannibal’s hair and glittering in the light like a net of diamonds.</p><p>“What?” Matthew pouted, hands still resting on Will’s hips. “I missed you. That’s hardly my fault, look at the time. Hannibal’s had you all night.”</p><p>“It was a few hours, Matthew,” Will sighed, leaning away from Matthew’s mouth as he chased another kiss. “Seriously, at least wait until we get inside. The neighbours don’t want a free show.”</p><p>“I’m sure Hannibal would like that, wouldn’t he?” Matthew’s gaze flickered over towards Hannibal, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  The man in question remained impassive, his face carefully blank. His hands, however, were curled into fists, nails digging into his palms.</p><p>“Leave him alone, Matthew, for fuck’s sake,” Will rolled his eyes, grabbing Matthew’s hands and removing them from his hips. “I’m going to bed. Night, Hannibal. Thanks for dinner, and for bringing me home.”</p><p>“You are most welcome, Will,” Hannibal said coolly, a pleasant smile gracing his lips. “I’m just glad to see you get home safe.”</p><p>Will smiled at him, scratching the back of his neck as he walked backwards across the porch. He was loathe to go, if he was honest, but that was more down to Hannibal’s presence than Matthew’s. He’d never dare admit that, though.</p><p>He headed inside, leaving Matthew and Hannibal out on the porch alone. It probably wasn’t his best idea – the pair hated one another, Hannibal no doubt more so given the night’s discoveries – but he didn’t want to linger outside. Not with Matthew posturing like he was, hands searing and branding him in front of Hannibal.</p><p>Meanwhile, outside, Hannibal and Matthew regarded one another in silence. Matthew’s lips twisted into a smirk, and he leaned against the porch pillar he’d just had Will pressed against.</p><p>“I see the way you look at him, Hannibal,” Matthew said. “And I don’t like it. He’s mine. You know that, don’t you?”</p><p>“Will does not belong to anyone,” Hannibal said evenly, fists clenched so tight that his nails were drawing blood from his palms. “Not you, and certainly not anyone else.”</p><p>“Alright,” Matthew laughed; a harsh, cruel sound. “You keep telling yourself that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and fuck my <em>husband</em> now.”</p><p>Hannibal had nothing left to say; he could only watch as Matthew turned on his heel and headed inside, slamming the front door behind him. His silhouette disappeared from view, but Hannibal remained at the bottom of the porch steps for a few moments longer.</p><p>He could only hope that Will found the courage to leave sooner rather than later.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. two | este wasn't there tuesday night at olive garden / but i ain't lettin' up until the day i die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Hello, Winston. Sit,” Hannibal said, gentle yet firm. The dog obeyed immediately, dropping cleanly to sit in front of Hannibal’s feet. “Good boy.” Hannibal smiled, reaching out to rub behind Winston’s ears. He had to admit that he did have a soft spot for Winston; of all Will’s dogs, Winston was definitely his favourite. He admired how protective the dog was of Will, an instinct that Hannibal felt he and Winston shared.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hellooooo again! tysm for the support on the first chapter!! :') so, we have moved onto the next part of the song... brace yourselves for investigations, conversations, and DOGS!!!!! btw i have absolutely taken liberties with the law here - i have no idea how cases/investigations really work, so i've just done whatever i want to make the situation work for the story, lol. please enjoy! :)))</p><p>this fic now has a playlist! find it here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3mIFtCQVI4Fsvm98rUjt26?si=275eb4dc5de44569</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Este wasn't there Tuesday night at Olive Gardеn</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At her job or anywhere</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hе reports his missing wife</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I noticed when I passed his house</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His truck has got some brand new tires</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And his mistress moved in</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sleeps in Este's bed and everything</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, there ain't no doubt</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Somebody's gotta catch him out, 'cause</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>I think he did it, but I just can't prove it</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I think he did it, but I just can't prove it</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I think he did it, but I just can't prove it</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No, no body, no crime</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I ain't lettin' up until the day I die</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Hannibal didn’t hear much from Will in the days following their illuminating dinner conversation. He wasn’t overly concerned; Will was likely busy, and Hannibal was too. He had a few shifts at the hospital, including covering for one of the other neurosurgeons whose wife had unexpectedly gone into labour. That wasn’t to say that he had forgotten about Will – far from it. Will’s admission lingered at the back of his mind, and every time he had a spare moment he found himself turning the prospect over and over. </p><p>Matthew worked as an orderly at an inpatient mental hospital in the heart of Baltimore and had done for years. As far as Hannibal was aware, his shifts were fairly regimented; state laws deemed that none of the orderlies were permitted to work beyond their contracted hours. Thus, the excuse that he had given Will – that he was working late – was a flimsy one, as though he hadn’t even bothered to try covering his tracks.</p><p>That wasn’t what bothered Hannibal, though. Realistically, he couldn’t care less about Matthew. It was Will that he was concerned about; his exhausted, defeated confession of <em>“We fight, we fuck, then we pretend everything’s fine. That’s how it always goes.”</em></p><p>Hannibal was at work on Friday evening when his phone buzzed with a message. It was a little after 7pm, and he was lingering in his office with the cafetiere he’d brought from home. He’d had a fairly busy day; he’d clocked in at 5:30am and his morning had been filled with one complex surgery after another. Those lasted until about midday; or did, usually, save for today when he had been called upon for an emergency surgery for a stroke patient. Once that was completed – successfully – he had spent some time reading research papers and would spend the last few hours of his shift catching up with patients, following up on the day’s surgeries, and reading over his schedule for the following day.</p><p>When his phone buzzed, he was in the middle of pouring a fresh cup of coffee – using his own grounds from home, of course. He glanced over at his phone mid-pour and raised an eyebrow when he saw Will’s name on the screen.</p><p>
  <strong>Will Graham</strong>
  <em>: Matthew’s shift ended an hour and a half ago and he’s not home yet. Place your bets now on what excuse he’ll give me when he walks through the door. </em>
</p><p>Hannibal set the cafetiere down, picking up his phone and swiping to unlock the screen. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, unsure of how to respond.</p><p>
  <strong>Hannibal: </strong>
  <em>All in on non-state mandated overtime.</em>
</p><p>Will’s response was prompt, as though he’d been waiting by the phone to hear back from Hannibal.</p><p><strong>Will Graham</strong>: <em>Lmao. I won’t be betting against you.</em></p><p><strong>Will Graham</strong>: <em>I’m going to have to confront him, aren’t I? </em></p><p>Hannibal sighed, leaning back in a chair and taking a measured sip of his coffee. He mulled Will’s question over in his head before typing out his next response.</p><p>
  <strong>Hannibal: </strong>
  <em>I’m afraid so, Will. Do what you think is right and do it for you. It will not be easy, but I am here for you. If I can help in any way, please do not hesitate to contact me. </em>
</p><p><strong>Will Graham</strong>: <em>Thanks, H. I’ll let you know how it goes. Hope work is treating you well.</em></p><p>
  <strong>Hannibal: </strong>
  <em>Thank you. As well as can be expected, all things considered. Take care. </em>
</p><p>That was the last Hannibal heard from him.</p><p>The weekend passed in a similar manner, although Hannibal felt compelled to check his phone more often, loathe as he was to miss a response from Will. He hoped that no news was good news and assumed he would hear all about it on Tuesday night.</p><p>Monday saw Hannibal overrun; there had been a collision downtown between a bus and a construction lorry and the ER was jammed with patients. His history as a trauma surgeon meant that he could easily be drafted in cases like this, considering there was nothing pressing on his roster. There wasn’t, and so he was roped into helping with a passenger who had ended up with a piece of rebar from the construction lorry jammed through his skull.</p><p>It had been a long and delicate process, and Hannibal was exhausted by the end of it. His shift had run on, and when he checked his watch as he was leaving the hospital, he found that it was already past midnight. He didn’t bother checking his phone before falling into bed and sleeping solidly until his alarm went off at 8am; early, perhaps, for a day off, but Hannibal was not one to rest longer than he felt was necessary.</p><p>It wasn’t until he’d been up for a few hours, during which time he’d showered, shaved, and eaten breakfast, that he thought to check his phone. He had a missed call and a message from Beverly Katz, Will’s best friend and a detective with the local police force. His brow furrowed as he checked the time of her call – 5:10pm, around the time that the first crash patients had come in – with her message time-stamped a few minutes later.</p><p><strong>Beverly Katz</strong>: <em>hey, hannibal. just checking in…have you heard from will at all? haven’t heard from him in a while, wanted to make sure he’s ok. been busy at work so haven’t had time to go round to his place, but i know you guys are pretty close so thought i’d check with you first.</em></p><p>Hannibal hummed as he read her message, his fingers promptly tapping out a response.</p><p>
  <strong>Hannibal: </strong>
  <em>I apologise for the late response, Miss Katz. I had to assist in the ER yesterday, so I have only just checked my phone. I also have not heard from Will for a few days, although that is not wholly unusual. I will be having dinner with him tonight, so I will check up on him then and urge him to respond to you. Take care. </em>
</p><p><strong>Beverly Katz</strong>: <em>no worries. forgot you guys have a weekly dinner date ;) enjoy, and please do get him to call me back.  </em></p><p>Hannibal spent the rest of his day as he usually spent his days off; a walk along the route where he’d first met Will all those years ago, followed by lunch, then a few hours spent reading and sketching as he desired, by which point it was usually time for him to get ready for dinner.</p><p>Despite the fact that their dinners took place at Olive Garden – an establishment without a specific dress code – it was Hannibal’s prerogative to always look put-together, no matter where he was. Tonight, he decided on a fine grey suit over a pale blue shirt and tie, with a double-breasted mushroom coloured coat over the top. He looped a thick scarf around his neck on his way out of the door, given the fact that the temperature had started dropping at night, and took the familiar route to the restaurant with his usual ten minutes to spare.</p><p>He requested a table by the door tonight, right next to the window with a good vantage of the parking lot. It was fairly empty, as usual, so he would undoubtedly see Will pull in. Hannibal had his coat hung on the back of his chair, jacket unbuttoned, and a glass of wine in hand by the time 7:30 rolled around. He eyed his watch as he took a slow, measured sip; Will would usually arrive in five minutes or so, with the exception of the previous week.</p><p>For all Will could be tardy at times, it wasn’t like him to be exceptionally late two weeks in a row. Given his lateness the week prior, Hannibal knew he would take great precaution to be on time this week to make up for it.</p><p>Hannibal decided that he would go by the same criteria he had set the week before; if Will hadn’t appeared by 8 o’clock, he would head round to his house to make sure everything was okay. He contented himself with people-watching while he waited, taking occasional sips of wine in between scanning the other patrons and eyeing the rows of ever-empty spaces in the parking lot.</p><p>Hannibal’s menu still lay open on the table – once again, he would not concede until he had to – and he could sense the waitstaff becoming antsy. When a young female waitress stopped by his table at 7:58pm, Hannibal admitted defeat and asked her for the cheque. He paid for the wine, although he’d only had one glass, and left a healthy tip for the inconvenience. He pulled his coat on in one mouth-wateringly elegant move and swept out of the restaurant with his phone in hand.</p><p>He dialled Will’s number as he headed to his car, but it went straight to voicemail. He frowned and tried again, and again, before conceding and sliding his phone into the front cupholder. With any luck, Will’s phone was just out of battery. He was notorious for that, after all.</p><p>Hannibal tried not to worry too much, as he drove the familiar route to Will’s house. He practiced the breathing exercises his therapist had taught him many years ago and tuned the radio to the classical station.</p><p>And if his knuckles were bleached with how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel, nobody had to know but himself.</p>
<hr/><p>Hannibal slowed as he turned onto Will’s street, the Bentley gleaming as it rolled beneath the streetlamps. His house, however, was shrouded in darkness, the curtains drawn tight across the windows. Matthew’s car – a sleek Tesla Model S – was missing from the driveway, but Will’s truck was there. Hannibal manoeuvred the Bentley to a stop across the street, switching off the engine and surveying the house. Despite the fact that there were no signs of life from inside, it didn’t hurt to knock the door. Perhaps Will was sick, and had gone to bed early?</p><p>Hannibal exited the Bentley, shutting the door quietly and locking it before slipping the keys into his pocket. He crossed the silent street, heading up the path towards the porch where he’d stood – embarrassed and infuriated – only a week prior. He pressed his ear to the front door, listening for any sounds from within the house, before knocking smartly thrice. There was no answer, not even the tell-tale sound of footsteps from inside.</p><p>He knocked again, to no avail, and decided to leave lest Matthew arrive home. It was no secret that Hannibal wasn’t Matthew’s biggest fan; he was civil, for Will’s sake, but without him there as a buffer there was no telling what truths might slip. Hannibal eyed Will’s truck as he headed back down the path, stopping suddenly when something caught his eye.</p><p>Usually, the truck looked a little bit rundown; slightly dirty, especially the wheel trims and skirts. Hannibal had become quite accustomed to the sight of mud worn into the grooves of Will’s tyres. It wasn’t for a lack of care; more because Will was often busy with the shelter and didn’t have time to clean the truck in between off-roading ventures to save rescues.</p><p>However, these tyres looked pristine; the wheel trims were still grimy, which accentuated the newness of the tyres themselves. Hannibal checked that the street was empty before approaching the truck and crouching at the front bumper. He laid a hand on the tyre, running his nail down one of the tracks. It was clean, almost unbearably so, and Hannibal even caught the scent of fresh rubber that lingered on new tyres until they’d been broken in. He stood, doing a lap of the car and finding that all of the tyres had been replaced. That was strange; Will hadn’t mentioned anything about needing new tyres, especially not all four.</p><p>That wasn’t to say that the car hadn’t needed the tyres; Hannibal didn’t live with Will, so who was he to really know what went on with the truck. But he was certain that it had just been in the garage recently; he’d come by to pick Will up a few Tuesdays ago, while it was in the shop and Matthew was nowhere to be found. Surely if the car had needed <em>all</em> new tyres, they would’ve picked up on that at the garage?</p><p>Hannibal, for all he was puzzled, shook his head and headed back to his Bentley. He knew very little about cars, especially trucks like Will’s. All he really knew about it was that it was an assault on his senses – loud and ugly as it was – but it was Will’s baby. Hannibal thought that Will secretly liked the fact that it looked bad; as though the dents and scratches gave it a certain character.</p><p>Perhaps he’d just decided to get all of the tyres replaced, on a whim? Hannibal mulled over the prospect in his head as he got into the Bentley, sliding the keys into the ignition. It wasn’t all that far beyond the realms of possibility – but, at the same time, Will had neglected to get the dim headlight fixed following Matthew’s supposed run in with the deer. As cherished as his truck was, he didn’t like to spend money on it when he didn’t absolutely <em>have</em> to. He preferred to do most of the maintenance himself; it had only ended up in the shop a few weeks prior at Matthew’s insistence. Will had been content to try and fix the problem himself, but between the long shifts he pulled at the shelter he hardly had the time nor the wherewithal to source the necessary parts and actually <em>do</em> the fixing.</p><p>Hannibal drove home in relative silence, foregoing the classical station and allowing the incessant hum of his brain to take over. He shelved the truck’s new tyres for now, ushering the thought into one of the many spare rooms of his mind palace, and concentrated instead on theorising upon Will’s whereabouts.</p><p>It wasn’t unknown for Will to essentially drop off the face of the Earth; rescuing and retraining stray dogs took a lot of time and effort, and Will was known to forego all of his own needs – basic and otherwise – in favour of working at the shelter. While that perhaps accounted for his disappearance over the weekend, it didn’t necessarily do so for his absence tonight – not with his truck sitting pretty in his driveway. It was plausible that Will had been working a lot and Matthew had perhaps decided to take him out for the night; that would explain the dark house and the Tesla’s absence. But Hannibal knew Will – better than anyone, he’d hazard – and with that came the knowledge that he wouldn’t jeopardise their Tuesday night dinners.</p><p>He’d been significantly late the previous week, but that was in extenuating circumstances. And he had shown up, albeit eventually. Prior to that, Will was only ever five minutes late – at the most. To miss out on dinner altogether without even messaging to acknowledge Hannibal of his absence? That was strange.</p><p>Hannibal pulled into his own driveway, movements mechanical as he got out of the car and headed into the house. He went straight to the wine cellar and selected a bottle of claret before heading back upstairs for a glass. Once he’d poured a healthy measure, he headed for the living room. It was one of his favourite rooms in the house, designed almost entirely in black with rich ruby accents. He set his glass down atop the fireplace and knelt at the grate, spending a few minutes setting a fire before lighting it with a flourish of flame. Once it was roaring healthily, he stepped back and sank into his favourite armchair before lifting his glass of wine to his mouth.</p><p>There was a slight tremor in his hand as he drank, which he attributed to concern. Of course he was concerned about Will – why wouldn’t he be? The other man’s marriage did not nullify the feelings Hannibal had for him. Though he could and would never act upon them – not as long as Will and Matthew were married – they remained, manifesting in an ache that spat and roared behind his breastbone. His compassion for Will was quite inconvenient, all things considered.</p><p>Hannibal set his glass down on a low table at the side of the armchair – atop a coaster, of course – and slipped his phone out of his pocket. Once again, the screen was frustratingly blank. He opened up his text thread with Will, Friday’s timestamp taunting him menacingly, and tapped out a new message.</p><p>
  <strong>Hannibal: </strong>
  <em>Hello, Will. I hope everything is okay. Please let me know that you are alright. </em>
</p><p>Once he’d sent it – after a moment’s hesitation – he went to his text thread with Beverly and composed a message to her, too.</p><p>
  <strong>Hannibal: </strong>
  <em>Beverly. Will did not appear for dinner tonight. I went to his house and though his truck was there, he was not. </em>
</p><p>Hannibal paused, deliberating, before adding:</p><p>
  <strong>Hannibal: </strong>
  <em>I am growing concerned. </em>
</p><p>Hannibal locked his phone as soon as he’d sent the message, laying it face down on the arm of the chair. It didn’t buzz for a while, by which point Hannibal had finished his glass of wine and was staring into the fire, watching the way the flames licked higher and higher. He – embarrassingly – scrambled for his phone as it buzzed, deflating when Beverly’s name occupied the screen.</p><p><strong>Beverly Katz</strong>: <em>shit. okay, thanks for letting me know. i’ll head round there tomorrow, see if i can talk to matthew. or even will, preferably.</em></p><p>
  <strong>Hannibal: </strong>
  <em>Good luck with that. I find him to be insufferable. Let me know how it goes.</em>
</p><p>Hannibal sent the message before he could talk himself out of it. It wasn’t like him to complain about Matthew, but Beverly was a kindred spirit. Hannibal liked her, and from the interactions he’d had with her, Will, and Matthew, he could tell that she felt the same way about Will’s husband.</p><p><strong>Beverly Katz</strong>: <em>lmfaooooo, you’re so right. he’s a prick. hopefully he’s willing to help. </em></p><p>
  <strong>Hannibal: </strong>
  <em>Hopefully Will is there. </em>
</p><p>Hannibal didn’t wait for Beverly’s response, sliding his phone back into his pocket and standing. He took his empty glass to the kitchen, washing it out and setting it on the draining board overnight. His movements were methodical as he brushed his teeth and got ready for bed, sliding between the sheets a little before midnight. He set his phone to charge on the bedside table and deigned to leave it on vibrate rather than putting it onto ‘Do Not Disturb’.</p><p>Just in case.</p>
<hr/><p>Hannibal didn’t want to intrude, but after a rather disturbing dream he decided to head to Will’s workplace to see if he was there. Will owned a dog shelter in downtown Baltimore, affectionately named <em>The Wet Nose</em>. It was a nice establishment, Hannibal had to admit; it was airy and clean with space for twenty dogs at a time, including Will’s own self-professed ‘pack’. Matthew didn’t want the dogs in the house, so Winston, Buster, Jack, Harley, Max, Ellie, and Zoe had to stay at the shelter. Hannibal knew that Will hated leaving them there, especially Winston.</p><p>In the beginning, <em>The Wet Nose</em> had been a solo endeavour. However, when the volume of dogs began to overwhelm Will, he decided that it was perhaps time to hire some help. And so he had hired Bryan Zeller and Jimmy Price, a dog trainer and groomer duo who had been an invaluable addition to the shelter. Will had also recently hired Abigail Hobbs, a college student who had been looking to do some volunteering alongside her degree. However, Will had been so impressed by her that he had offered her a permanent position; now, in between classes, she tended to work front of house but occasionally helped out with the dogs behind the scenes.</p><p><em>The Wet Nose</em>’s prerogative was to rescue strays with a view to rehabilitating and even rehoming them. They were extremely successful, boasting a 100% success rate when it came to matching dogs with new owners. Will had an innate understanding of the dogs; he seemed to understand them better than anyone else and was thus well-equipped to select a new owner that would be able to satisfy their needs.</p><p>Hannibal’s Bentley rolled into the parking lot a little after 10am, pulling into a spot beside Abigail’s car: a minivan she’d hand painted with a variety of swirling, kaleidoscopic patterns. On the other side of Abigail’s minivan was Zeller’s pride and joy: a sleek black G-Wagon. He and Price lived together and carpooled to work every day, out of convenience but also necessity – Price didn’t drive.</p><p>Hannibal stepped out of the car and smoothed out his suit – a dark grey wool with a red check – shading his eyes from the sun as he headed inside. Abigail looked up from the computer as he walked in, a smile blooming across her face. “Hannibal! Hi!”</p><p>“Abigail,” Hannibal smiled – her joy was infectious. “How are you?”</p><p>Abigail shrugged, folding her elbows on the desk and resting her chin on her hands. “Oh, not too bad. I’ve got a lot of college work at the moment but I bring it with me so I can do some when it’s quiet,” She gestured towards a pile of books sitting at the edge of her keyboard, each one thicker than the last. “How are you?”</p><p>“I’m fine, thank you for asking. Is Will here?”</p><p>Abigail shook her head. “No, Jimmy said he hasn’t seen him since Friday.”</p><p>“Is Jimmy here, then?” Hannibal asked, the cogs in his mind already turning. While it wasn’t unlike Will to pull away from people, he would never pull away from his dogs. Will missing work was an extremely rare occurrence, and one that was absolutely cause for alarm.</p><p>“Yeah, him and Brian are out the back with the dogs. You can go round, if you want.” Abigail said, pointing over her shoulder. Behind her was a door that led through to the kennels; further still was the door that led to the garden out the back of the building. Will had spent a lot of time, money, and effort making sure it was safe; it had a high wooden fence all the way around, with dedicated areas for play, rest, and training. The dogs – Will’s own included – loved it.</p><p>“Thank you, Abigail. Good luck with your work.” Hannibal smiled, already moving past her towards the door. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her, but her admission of Will’s absence worried him.</p><p>All of the kennels were empty as Hannibal passed, the sound of his shoes muffled on the rubber floor. He assumed – given the early hour – that all of the dogs were outside for their morning exercise. His assumption was confirmed when he opened the door to the garden and stepped outside, twenty dogs looking up from various spots around the garden. Winston, who had been lapping at one of the water bowls in the centre of the garden, gave a yelp and ran to greet Hannibal, running circles around him immediately.</p><p>“Hello, Winston. Sit,” Hannibal said, gentle yet firm. The dog obeyed immediately, dropping cleanly to sit in front of Hannibal’s feet. “Good boy.” Hannibal smiled, reaching out to rub behind Winston’s ears. He had to admit that he did have a soft spot for Winston; of all Will’s dogs, Winston was definitely his favourite. He admired how protective the dog was of Will, an instinct that Hannibal felt he and Winston shared.</p><p>“Hey, Hannibal,” Brian called across the yard, from where he and Jimmy were seated at a picnic table. There was a flask of coffee between them, and they each held a mug that was emblazoned with the shelter’s logo – a stylized sketch of Winston with his tongue hanging out. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>Hannibal approached the table, preferring not to shout, and Winston trotted obediently behind him. “Good morning Brian. Jimmy,” He said once he reached the table, stopping at the edge and nodding at each of the men in turn. “I was looking for Will, but Abigail said he wasn’t here.”</p><p>“Hasn’t been since Friday,” Brian shrugged, setting his mug down on the table. “I don’t grudge him taking time off, but I wish he’d tell us in advance.”</p><p>“Is this the first time Will has taken time off without telling you?” Hannibal asked, raising a hand to shade his eyes from the sun’s glare.</p><p>“Yeah,” Jimmy nodded. “He’s usually pretty good at letting us know. He’s always given us at least a few days’ notice before. It’s just lucky that it was the weekend and we all usually come in on weekends anyway.”</p><p>“Do you have any idea where he might be? Did he say anything that might’ve suggested that he was going somewhere?” Hannibal suggested, looking between the men as they shared a glance.</p><p>“No,” Brian sighed eventually. “Although he was acting kind of strange last week. Like, twitchy, almost?” </p><p>“Yeah, he was pretty jumpy. More than usual, anyway.” Jimmy added, taking a sip of coffee.</p><p>Hannibal hummed.</p><p>“What?” Brian asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve got this look on your face, like you know something. What’s going on?”</p><p>Hannibal sighed inwardly. He was loath to gossip about Will’s private life in the man’s absence. Will was a fairly private person; he probably wouldn’t appreciate Hannibal airing his dirty laundry in front of his co-workers.</p><p>“I don’t know what’s going on,” Hannibal said, lifting one shoulder in an imitation of a shrug. “Just that something is. Four days away from work is a lot for Will to take without any notice.”</p><p>“Yeah, and he didn’t even take his guys with him,” Jimmy pointed out, nodding at Winston who was sitting quietly at Hannibal’s feet. “That’s the calmest Winston’s been, actually. He’s been on edge all weekend, like he knows something’s up. His kennel was all scratched up this morning, and he wouldn’t stop whining last night.”</p><p>Hannibal looked down at Winston, whose tail started wagging instantly. He reached out and smoothed his hand over Winston’s head, relishing in the feeling of soft fur against his palm.</p><p>“This is probably the longest he’s gone without Will since he found him,” Hannibal suggested. “No wonder he’s confused.”</p><p>“Would you – would you, uh, consider taking him? Just until Will comes back from…wherever he is?” Jimmy asked. “I don’t think he’s going to settle otherwise, and we can’t really risk the others getting too upset. Especially when some of them are still so new.”</p><p>Hannibal thought of his Bentley, with the immaculate interior and cream leather seats. He thought of his house, with the polished oak floors and velvet sofas.</p><p>Then he thought of Will.</p><p>“I can take Winston,” Hannibal agreed, and Brian and Jimmy shared a look of surprise. “You’ll need to give me his food and things-”</p><p>“That’s no problem, man. I can go and sort all that right now,” Brian said, jumping up from the bench. “Thanks so much, Hannibal, really. It means a lot to us. And it’ll mean a lot to Will, too.”</p><p>Hannibal smiled, flinching slightly as Brian clapped a hand on his shoulder before heading inside. “Are the others okay?” Hannibal asked, gesturing over to Will’s other dogs who were grappling with a tug-of-war rope.</p><p>“They’ve been fine. Just this guy that’s been upset,” Jimmy shrugged, pouring himself some fresh coffee from the flask. Silence fell over the pair for a few moments, until Jimmy cleared his throat and looked up at Hannibal. “So you really have no idea where Will could be? Should we be worried?”</p><p>Hannibal shook his head. He didn’t want to divulge any information regarding the truck, lest it turn out to be nothing. “I have no idea. Hopefully it’s nothing serious, but we might want to think about filing a report if Matthew hasn’t done so already.”</p><p>Jimmy scoffed, bringing his mug to his mouth again. “Matthew’s a piece of shit,” He muttered, swallowing another mouthful of coffee. “He probably hasn’t even noticed Will’s gone.”</p><p>“The opposite, actually,” A new voice sounded from behind the pair, and they turned to find Brian returning with Beverly Katz at his elbow. “Matthew filed a missing person’s report last night. I heard about it this morning. They’re not letting me formally work the case because of my personal involvement,” She explained, stepping up beside Hannibal. “They’ve sent some officers round to the house, from what I can gather, and they’ll probably stop by here, too. I just wanted to come by first and let you guys know. I guess part of me was also hoping Will would be here.”</p><p>“He hasn’t been here since Friday,” Jimmy said, looking down at his coffee cup. “We don’t even know if he made it home.”</p><p>“He did,” Beverly said, laying a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and squeezing. “When Matthew got home from work around 9:30 the truck was in the drive, but Will was nowhere to be found. His wallet and phone were in the house, but he wasn’t. Matthew thought he’d maybe gone out for a walk with the dogs or something, but I guess they’re all present and correct?”</p><p>“Yeah, they’re all here. He didn’t take any of the dogs home. Matthew doesn’t let him. Sometimes he’ll take them away for a hike or whatever but that’s usually when he has days off.” Brian explained, pointing over to where Will’s pack – sans Winston – were still tug-of-warring.</p><p>Beverly hummed, reaching down to scratch behind Winston’s ears. The dog wagged his tail in response, leaning his head into her hands.</p><p>“How serious is this, Miss Katz?” Hannibal asked. “Is it being treated as kidnapping?”</p><p>Jimmy made a strangled sound.</p><p>“Nobody wants to jump to any conclusions yet,” Beverly said gently, making a placating gesture. “The truth is that we have no idea what’s happened. We can’t rule anything out, but we also don’t want to jump to conclusions.”</p><p>Hannibal hummed.</p><p>“Might I speak with you alone, please?” He asked, gesturing back towards the building. “Perhaps we could take a walk?”</p><p>“Sure,” Beverly shrugged. “I’ve got time. Price, Zeller.” She nodded at the men in turn before heading for the door back into the shelter.</p><p>Brian handed Hannibal a bag full to the brim with Winston’s belongings; toys, brushes, treats, among other things. “I’ve left a bag of feed with Abigail for you to grab on your way out. It’s got a measure inside the bag; he just gets a cup in the morning and a cup at night.”</p><p>Hannibal nodded, taking the proffered bag and lead from Brian. He crouched down to attach the lead – buttery soft leather, in the same shade of brown as Winston’s collar – giving Winston a pat before standing again.</p><p>“Thank you. I’ll let you know if I have any issues,” Hannibal said, smoothing down the front of his jacket. “Take care.”</p><p>He turned on his heel then, walking across the garden with Winston in tow. Beverly was holding the door open for him and he quickened his pace a little, nodding his thanks as he headed inside. They walked down the hall in silence, Winston’s claws clicking on the rubber as they went. Abigail was on the phone as they passed through reception, waving towards the bag of feed that Brian had left propped against the counter.</p><p>“Could you-?” Hannibal asked Beverly quietly, holding out Winston’s lead and the bag of his things.</p><p>“Oh, sure.” Beverly smiled, slipping her hand through the loop of the lead and pulling the bag onto her shoulder. She led the way outside, holding the door open again as Hannibal lifted the bag of feed onto his shoulder and headed for the Bentley. Once it was open, he placed both bags into the boot, snagging a few poo bags and tucking them into his inside pocket just in case, before locking the car and taking Winston’s lead again.</p><p>“Shall we?” Hannibal asked, gesturing towards the pavement. “There’s a park along here. We could stop there if that suits?”</p><p>“Lead the way.” Beverly nodded, and Hannibal did just that.</p><p>The pair once again walked in silence towards the park, each no doubt mulling over the morning’s events. Winston was content to sniff the pavement as they walked, never once pulling on the lead or stopping suddenly. Hannibal had to admit that he was immaculately trained.</p><p>Once they reached the park, Hannibal led Beverly to a fairly secluded bench that was hidden away in a coppice of trees. They sat, Winston lying at Hannibal’s feet and resting his chin on his front paws.</p><p>“So, you’re looking after Winston, huh?” Beverly asked lightly, gesturing towards the dog. “I never thought I’d see the day you allowed a dog in your Bentley, Hannibal, let alone your <em>house</em>.”</p><p>“What can I say?” Hannibal lifted one shoulder. “My compassion for Will is inconvenient. It seems I am willing to sacrifice my sense of interior design for him and his dogs.”</p><p>Beverly snorted, shaking her head. “Inconvenient, sure. What did you want to talk about, anyway? Something about Will?”</p><p>Hannibal sighed, rubbing his thumb over the edge of Winston’s lead. “All of this may amount to nothing, but I feel as though I should tell you anyway. Had Will told you of his suspicions about Matthew?” He asked, turning to face Beverly.</p><p>“Suspicions?” Beverly’s eyebrows shot up. “No…”</p><p>“He suspected that Matthew was cheating on him,” Hannibal explained, ignoring Beverly’s bitten off gasp. “He told me so, last Tuesday. He was considering confronting him and sent me a message on Friday that sounded like he had decided to do just that. That was the last I heard from him.”</p><p>“Shit,” Beverly breathed, her eyes wide. “What a fucking asshole.”</p><p>Hannibal hummed in agreement, his free hand curling into a fist. “Yes, I agree. I fear that Matthew may have had a, how shall I say it, volatile reaction to Will’s suspicions.”</p><p>“You think Matthew has something to do with Will’s disappearance?” Beverly asked, tucking one leg up beneath her. “Hannibal, that’s a really serious claim.”</p><p>“I know,” Hannibal sighed. Winston looked up at the sound, making a soft whining sound and sitting up. He rested his chin on Hannibal’s knees instead, gazing upwards with liquid eyes. Hannibal took pity on him and scratched behind his ears gently. “I just feel it’s too much of a coincidence. Also, and this really might be nothing, but when I went round to their house last night, I noticed that Will’s truck had brand new tyres.”</p><p>“All of them?” Beverly asked, brow furrowing when Hannibal nodded. “Okay, that’s weird. Wasn’t his car just in the shop, too?”</p><p>“A few weeks ago, yes.” Hannibal nodded, brushing a line up Winston’s snout with his thumb.</p><p>“Shit, shit, shit,” Beverly cursed, chewing on her lower lip. “I – I don’t know what I can do about this, Hannibal. They’ve already barred me from working the case. I’m too close as it is. I don’t think anyone would listen to me on this.”</p><p>“Then don’t tell anyone,” Hannibal said, lifting his gaze to meet Beverly’s head-on. “Keep this between us. Perhaps we can investigate this ourselves.”</p><p>Beverly blew out a breath between parted lips. “Hannibal, that’s a big and dangerous undertaking. God knows what could be going on here. Is that something you really want to get yourself involved in?”</p><p>Hannibal’s gaze hardened. “Are you really asking me that? Will might be in serious danger. He might already be dead.”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Beverly said gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Alright, I won’t tell anyone what you’ve told me. Just realise that me knowing about whatever it is you’re doing, or planning to do, puts me in a really precarious situation at the station. We’ve got to be careful.”</p><p>“You need not be involved, Beverly.”</p><p>Beverly’s answering chuckle was humourless. “Will’s my best friend,” She reminded him, tone leaving no room for argument or disagreement. “I want to find him just as much as you do. And if that son of a bitch is involved-”</p><p>“He’ll pay, Beverly,” Hannibal said quietly, looking out over the park. “He’ll pay.”</p>
<hr/><p>The next few days were a blur for Hannibal; he felt as though he was operating on autopilot. He had work, which he hadn’t considered when he’d offered to take Winston, but luckily his neighbour had dogs and was more than willing to take care of Winston during the day. There was the option of dropping him off at the shelter while Hannibal worked, but he didn’t want to force either Brian or Jimmy to stay late until his shifts were over.</p><p>After a hellish shift on Friday, Hannibal decided to take Winston on a late walk after picking him up from his neighbour. It had been a week since he’d last heard from Will, and there was an unfamiliar itch beneath his skin. He’d been on edge all day; he felt as though he were confined within his own body, claustrophobia tugging at his brain. That coupled with the irrevocable loss of a patient during surgery, and Hannibal was slowly and silently drowning.</p><p>Hannibal trusted Winston to lead the way, deep in his own head as he was, and the dog trotted obediently along the pavement, never once pulling on the lead. However, after an indeterminable length of time, Winston stopped suddenly. Hannibal didn’t even notice at first and continued walking until the lead became taut, signalling Winston’s disobedience.</p><p>“Winston?” Hannibal frowned at the dog, who had parked himself in the middle of the pavement. He was facing the road, chin tilted upwards as though he was looking at the house opposite. Hannibal followed the dog’s gaze and was surprised to find himself standing across the street from Will and Matthew’s house. Given the late hour, most of the lights were off bar one; a faint, yellow glow came from the bedroom, spilling out through the gap in the curtains.</p><p>Hannibal shook his head; it wasn’t healthy for him to even be here, let alone looking in through the windows. “Come on, Winston,” Hannibal sighed, tugging lightly on the lead. Winston tossed his head, whining slightly as he shifted to lie down on the pavement instead. He rested his head on his paws and stared up at the house, his eyes liquid in the glow from the streetlamp above their heads. “Winston, how do you even know that’s his house? Matthew never even let you in.” Hannibal muttered, crouching beside Winston and running a hand down his spine. The dog snuffled slightly, looking up at Hannibal with a baleful expression before his attention shifted back to the house.</p><p>Hannibal ran a hand over his face, letting himself look over at the house again. He spotted movement through the slat in the curtains; someone that wasn’t Matthew was standing in the middle of the room, running a brush through shoulder-length blonde hair.</p><p>Hannibal blinked. Winston whined.</p><p>The person turned slightly, throwing the brush down as someone – Matthew – approached them. He slid his hands around their waist and leaned in to kiss them, a smile evident on his face as they both disappeared from view.</p><p>“That doesn’t look like a man whose husband has been missing for a week, does it?” Hannibal mused, looking down at Winston. Winston stared back at him, yawning suddenly and flashing rows of pointed teeth. Hannibal eyed him carefully, sneaking him a treat from his pocket before standing. Winston crunched at his treat happily, getting to his feet and turning his attention away from the house. Hannibal started walking again, Winston by his side, and didn’t look back.</p><p>Matthew and his lover had seemed familiar with one another, if his smile was anything to go by. Their easy movements implied comfort: what Hannibal had seen was not the beginnings of a tryst, nor a heartbroken hook-up. It seemed as though Will’s suspicions had been correct; Matthew had indeed been unfaithful to him, with the very stranger now sleeping in Will’s bed.</p><p>If Will’s messages to Hannibal were anything to go by, he had confronted Matthew about the situation and about his suspicions. Given the kind of person that he was and given what Hannibal knew about him and his relationship with Will, Matthew wouldn’t have taken kindly to such questioning, whether true or not. Realistically, what was there to stop him from getting rid of Will – in whatever manner he deemed fit – so that he could be with his lover without interruption. It seemed extravagant and unnecessary to Hannibal, but that seemed to be Matthew’s prerogative. Why get a divorce when you could stage your husband’s disappearance?</p><p>Hannibal curled his fingers tightly around Winston’s lead in an attempt to ground himself. There was no doubt about it; he had to get to the bottom of the situation. Will was missing but missing did not mean dead. He was certain that Matthew had orchestrated the situation; he had suspected it for a week, but he was sure of it now. Of course there was no formal proof as such, just an instinctual, gut <em>feeling</em> that Hannibal couldn’t ignore.</p><p>Hannibal pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialling Beverly’s number. He would keep her in the loop, dutifully. But what he did after that, he would do alone.</p><p>Hannibal pressed his phone to his ear, waiting for Beverly to pick up. Despite the hour, he had no doubt that she would answer. True enough – the call connected after a few moments, Beverly greeting him in a hushed voice.</p><p>“Sorry, Hannibal. I’m at work. Is everything okay?”</p><p>“I took Winston on a walk tonight, and we ended up outside Will’s house,” Hannibal explained, keen to get straight to the point. “There was someone in the house, with Matthew.”</p><p>“An officer?” Beverly asked, her confusion audible.</p><p>“No. At least I hope not, given the fact that he was kissing them.”</p><p>“<em>Kissing?</em>” Beverly’s shock gave her words a sharp, hissing edge. “What the fuck? Does the man have no shame? His husband is <em>literally</em> missing – he filed the report three days ago-”</p><p>“I think this could be the person that he was cheating on Will with.” Hannibal interrupted, tapping his forefinger against the back of his phone.</p><p>“Shit,” Beverly breathed. “Shit, Hannibal, what if he got rid of Will to be with this other person?”</p><p>“Exactly my thinking,” Hannibal muttered. “Is there anything in the reports to say that there’s someone new living in the house? I thought that wouldn’t be allowed, all things considered.”</p><p>“I mean, it’s Matthew’s house. They cleared it pretty quickly, didn’t find any evidence as to Will’s whereabouts considering all his stuff was there. I’ll try and have a look at the reports, but what Matthew does in his own house is his own business now,” Beverly sighed, and Hannibal could hear her shuffling papers in the background. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see if I can get my hands on those reports before I leave.”</p><p>“Alright,” Hannibal nodded. “Let me know what you find.”</p><p>“I will. And Hannibal? Don’t do anything rash, okay? I know you’re worried about Will, but we still have to be careful. There’s a formal investigation going on here.”</p><p>“I won’t. Goodnight, Miss Katz.” Hannibal said quietly, pulling his phone away from his ear and hanging up on Beverly’s goodbye. He sighed as he slipped his phone into his pocket, following Winston beneath the arcing beams thrown by the streetlights. He had a lot of thinking to do.</p>
<hr/><p>It was after midnight by the time Hannibal got home. His house was shrouded in darkness, shadows clinging to every corner of every room. Slats of moonlight fell in through the living room bay windows, spreading silver across the floor. He unclipped Winston’s lead, hanging it up by the door with his coat before heading through towards the kitchen. His movements were methodical as he fetched a glass of water, drinking it where he stood. His hands trembled, and a stray drop of water dripped down his chin.</p><p>Hannibal gasped as he drained the glass, dropping it into the sink with a clatter. He leaned over the counter; knuckles bleached white as his fingers curled tight around the edge. Winston whined, butting his head against Hannibal’s legs. “Sorry, Winston, I’m sorry.” Hannibal rasped, turning and sliding to the floor with his back against the cabinets. Winston sat at his hip, lifting a paw and laying it on Hannibal’s chest. He snuffled lightly, leaning forward and touching his nose to Hannibal’s cheek.</p><p>Hannibal sniffed, lifting a hand and rubbing it over his face. It came away damp – he hadn’t even realised he’d been crying. He chuckled – a low, humourless sound, verging on bitter – and used the cuff of his shirt to dry his cheeks. “What’s happening to me, Winston?” Hannibal sighed, shaking his head before burying his hands into Winston’s fur. The dog blinked up at him, moving closer and nuzzling his head into Hannibal’s chest. “I know. I miss him, too.” He said quietly, tilting his chin down and dropping a kiss to the top of Winston’s head. He would never admit it, but having the dog around gave him the sense of being close to Will. He felt a little less alone in his swirling, indeterminate grief, with Winston beside him.</p><p>After a while, Hannibal registered the coldness of the marble tiles beneath him, along with the ridges of the cabinets digging into his back. He stood slowly, Winston pressed close to his shins, and headed upstairs towards the bedroom. He got ready for bed with measured, almost robotic motions, folding his clothes into the hamper and brushing his teeth with practiced ease.</p><p>He slid between his sheets with a sigh, sitting up against the headboard for a moment. Winston stood in the doorway, his eyes shining in the low light that spilled from the bedside lamp. Hannibal eyed him for a long, drawn-out moment, before relenting and patting the empty space on the bed beside him. Winston trotted into the room, jumping up in a smooth motion and curling into the spot at Hannibal’s hip. With a huff, he rested his head on Hannibal’s stomach.</p><p>“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Hannibal said in mock seriousness, tapping his finger against Winston’s damp nose. “Not even Will, okay?” He reached forward to undo Winston’s collar – supple brown leather, to match his lead – and laid it gently on the bedside table. He scratched his fingers through Winston’s mane, and the dog made a pleased sound as his eyes drifted closed. “Never thought I’d see the day I’d share my bed with a dog,” Hannibal remarked to himself, leaning over to flip the light off with his free hand. “What have you done to me, Will Graham?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HANNIBAL + WINSTON SUPREMACY</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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